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2013.09.23 - Good Friends and Good Food
Someone's standing in the kitchen ringing an actual dinner bell, banging a stick around inside a metal triangle. "Food's on! Y'all come down heah t' eat 'fore it git cold! Anyone don' wan some gumbo, ah got some gator fritters fer leftovers if you ain't beat feet!" There's the sound of bare feet and slippers hitting the ground and the gaggle of kids come running, presumably having been properly scared by Remy's stories of famous Creole cuisine. He stands in the cafeteria with a flour covered apron on, akimbo, and grinning broadly as the kids pile in and start getting served up their meals by the children on kitchen duty for that day. Storm watches everything from one of the remote doorways, the only indication of her amusement being a faint smile. She looks at the woman standing there with her to see what Diana's reaction to the school's new head cook / potential home ec instructor might be. "I suspect if nothing else, meal times are going to be more interesting." Wonder Woman smiles. "I may have to send Alcmene to learn from him," she says, mentioning the head cook for the embassy. "She's very interested in styles of cooking from Man's World." She flew in to make good on an invitation, and has been suitably impressed thus far. "How is his food?" Better get that out of the way before she sends one of her sisters here. "Hey, you two," Remy says. He stops one child- pushing a bit on the heavy side- and one a bit too thin- and switches their plates. "Der. You two trade plates heah on out, ah wanna see some meet on you, chil'," Remy scolds the too-thin teen. "An' you," he says, pointing at the chubbier one, "you look like you been goin' back for seconds. Ah see you pilin' yoah plate dat high 'gin, ah start cookin' up special batch of mamma Remy's five-alarm chili. You sweat out what you eat, ah gahrantee," Remy says to the boy, shooing him on his way. The ebullient Cajun is everywhere, walking around the cafeteria with that mischievous red-eyed gaze, making liberal use of a cooking spoon to make sure students eat their food and don't steal from one another. That doesn't stop Remy from sneaking biscuits and spoonfuls from plates that look a bit over-full. "Bonjour, bienvenue a ma cafeterie," he tells the two women. He flashes a wink at Storm, then gives Diana a quick once-over and flashes a broad and fearless grin at the infamous Wonder Woman. "Ororo, ah ever tell you you got some beautiful friens?" he informs the fellow X-man, his roguish red eyes staying on Diana. He makes an elegant leg to Wonder Woman. "Remy LaBeau, head chef," he proclaims with a playfully over the top tone. "An' part time maintenance mechanic. An' head poker player, when ah kin talk anyone t' playin' 'ginst me anymore," he adds with a wry grin. "Thank you, Remy. I don't suppose there is room for us to join this meal, is there?" Storm asks as if there could ever be the possibility of there NOT being room for them, and looks at Diana to make sure that this arrangement is okay with her as well. The kids /are/ kind of boisterous... Wonder Woman smiles at Remy. "Diana of Themyscira," she answers simply. "A pleasure to meet one of Ororo's colleagues, Mister LeBeau." 'Ambassador' and 'Princess' are usually left for official business. Or if she just wants to be formal. This is neither situation. Not that it stops her from being a little formal. "I can't see the harm in it," she tells Storm, "unless we'd be a disruption to the students." That makes her smile widen a bit; the students are so noisy, would they even noticed the pair of women? "Diana, it is a /true/ pleasure to meet you," Remy says, grinning outrageously at the Ambassador. He gestures grandly to a small set of Japanese-style folding screens, set off to one side. "Ladies, if you will come avec moi, ah'll seat you at de Instructor's table," he invites. It's a short walk and Remy reveals a set of actual, honest-to-god dining room tables, likely culled from a storage room somewhere in the mansion. There's actual silverware and tablecloths instead of flatware and plastic table covers. There are even candle sconces and fresh flowers, and it's quiet and intimate despite the din of students eating and carrying on in the kitchen. "You ladies have a seat heah an' ah git y'all a couple plates of gumbo. Good stuff t'day, didn' even have t' catch de neighbors cats for meat." With another florid wink, he turns and heads back to the kitchen. Storm blinks quickly a few times, an indication that she's completely surprised by this for anyone who's observant or knows her well enough. But then she mentally rewinds what Remy said, and the screeching of brakes in her brain is almost audible. "Do not tell me you actually intend to use CAT for cooking." "I'm certain he's jesting, Ororo," Diana says, putting a reassuring hand on the other woman's shoulder for a moment. She does give the instructor's table a little look over. "I'm surprised you managed to find room for this," she admits, nodding back to the cafeteria proper. "You seem to have so many students... I would think space is at a premium." Remy's manner is met with warm smiles; the kind the ambassador is well-known for. Remy returns in less than two minutes, effortlessly balancing several plates and platters of food. He lays them out in front of the women with an easy grace, laying plates like he's dealing cards. "So ah whipped up some gumbo," he explains, setting a pot in front of the women with a ladle in it. "An' jes' 'special, a bit of escargot in butter'n garlic sauce, some gnocchi, an' a lil' tomato soup fondue wit' grill cheese." He settles into one of the other seats and produces, from nowhere, a bottle of wine. "An' a bit of vino, fer medicinal purposes." He pops the cork and pours three glasses. "Kids git cat gumbo, 'cause dey don' appreciate good Creole cookin' yet," he says, grinning mischievously. Storm is clearly surprised again. "This is... extravagant." She looks at Remy, especially when he points out the escargot. "Did you notify the Professor that the meal is prepared? I suspect he would be most disappointed if he missed out on this." Wonder Woman has yet to try Creole cooking. This is entirely new to her. She leans forward to peer into the pot curiously. So many ingredients, so many things they never had on Themyscira! "That smells wonderful." Certainly like nothing she's used to eating! "Does the Professor usually join the instructors for meals?" "Dis? Dis ain't 'stravgan. You wait 'till ah need some bayou crawdad. Hard t' get good crawdad." He ladles up some of the spicy gumbo for the women, then settles into seat and dishes himself up some food. "Ah had some food sent up 'him," Remy informs Ororo, spearing some escargot with the tiny twin-tine forks made just for that purpose. He bites down happily. "He say he workin' today, so couldn' roll down heah eat wit us." "So what bring Wonder Woman down heah?" he asks Diana, rolling the spoon around between his fingers and eyeing her curiously. "Nice t' see a celebrity 'roundabout, but ah figger you be havin' some Presidents to dine wit' or a world to save, or sometin'." Storm ohs silently and nods her appreciation to Remy when hearing he'd already sent a meal up to Charles. He's rather badly prone to forgetting to eat, so having someone else around to help her keep after him is a godsend. While Diana goes straight for the gumbo, she settles for taking a small helping of the tomato soup and grilled cheese. "I invited Diana to visit today, Remy. She's been considering having one of her sisters attend the Institute." Wonder Woman's gaze flickers up from the gumbo to Remy. "Well, not quite as a student," she says with a smile. "Many of my sisters are curious about what we call 'Man's World'," she explains. "Many of them help me teach different courses at the embassy, and more than one has expressed she would like to see how a school functions, because some of our students may be more accustomed to lessons outlined the way a school might." "Well, dis a good place t' learn," Remy says, swallowing down a mouthful of the spicy gumbo. "Seem like de embassy ain't a typical school, so dis be a good place t' learn how to do sometin' dat ain't typical," Remy says with a diffident shrug. "How come you call it 'Man's World'?" he inquires of Diana, spearing a small bite of cheese in the tomato sauce fondue. Storm ahs and nods to Diana. That actually makes more sense to her. "We /are/ still short an instructor or two. I wonder if the Professor would consider inviting a few of your sisters to assist here." Because really, that would make HER life a whole lot easier. Wonder Woman has been asked this question many times. Her attention briefly goes to the gumbo before her fingers wrap around the ladle. "We have no men on Themyscira," she tells Remy honestly. "There were too many countries and groups and cultures beyond our borders. It was easier to call it 'Man's World'." She ladles out a bit of the gumbo for herself. It smells wonderful, she can't imagine disliking it. "Old habits die hard, too," she admits. Ororo's suggestion makes her eyes light up. "It would be an interesting opportunity," she admits. Remy glances up at the two women, then shrugs and shakes his head. "Don' look at me, ah ain't gonna complain bout a few pretty gals takin' up teachin' posts heah," he says with a wryly unapologetic grin. He takes a large bite of gumbo and wipes his mouth with his napkin. "Tink any of 'em wanna learn how t' cook?" he asks. "what I heah, y'all ain't use a lotta bikes on de island, so don' reckon none of them wanna learn how t' work on motorcycles." Storm just shakes her head a little at Remy, another faint smile revealing her level of amusement at the man's carousing habits. "Perhaps you should speak with Scott or Logan about motorcycles. I know both seem to be rather ... enamored of them." She herself could take or leave them. They're just another mode of transportation, and she still finds herself wondering why a few days ago, a still slightly hungover Remy had insisted, badgered, and generally made a pest of himself until she'd agreed to drive him back to Harry's to get his bike. It's not like Harry would have allowed so much as a butterfly to land on it. "Horses mostly," Diana admits with a nod. "I was telling Ororo that Alcmene, one of head cooks, is very interested in the wide variety of cooking in Man's World. She probably enjoy the opportunity to learn from someone that has experience in another type of cooking." She finally sits. "Perhaps you could tell me what you have covered between yourselves and the other instructors?" ..... After Diana's gone and the kids have cleared out, Remy's gone back into the kitchen area, finishing up the cleaning and prep work for the morning. Ororo's set up at the counter between the kitchen and the eating area, with another glass of wine and some leftovers. "You tink Diana gonna show up wit' some gals t' learn heah?" Gambit asks Storm, rolling some chicken breasts in flour. "Seem like de pitta-pattah of lil' Amazon feet make dis place a hella lot more popular." Storm shakes her head slightly, picking at the leftovers idly. She seems to be carefully eating only the visibly vegetarian options. "I do not know, but I sincerely hope that she does. It can only be to everyone's benefit." She takes a small sip of the wine while watching Gambit do the prep work for the morning. "Are you sure I can't help?" "Nah, dis dirty work," Remy says, shaking his head. "Raw chicken. Ain't much fun an' it all need be done foah breakfast tomorrow," he informs the woman. He rolls the breasts back and forth in the flour and briskly tosses them onto trays for the morning meal. "How big dis school gonna git, you tink?" he asks. "Or how big you tink it /can/ get?" he inquires. "Not all dat much room heah for a hunnered people." Storm nods a bit, but mentally resolves to help with any remaining clean up, including the dishes she's got next to her. "Knowing Charles, as big as necessary to give every child who needs it a safe, prejudice-free place to learn and thrive. His estate is more than just this building." "Must be nice, havin' money," Remy says. He's a bit quiet for a moment. "Ah wonder if dese kids know how good dey got it heah." He takes a nip from the bottle he keeps well-hidden behind the five-star pepper rack, setting it on the table by Storm. "I 'member scrapin' out garbage bins foah a bite a food. Wore sunglasses every day for a few months, tryin' t' hide my eyes," he says with a rueful grin. "Guess bein' a teenager ain't easy foah no-one," he states. "Still, dese kids got it pretty sweet. Ah'm a bit jealous, ain't gonna lie." Storm looks at Remy seriously. "Most of them do, as well as you do. The boy you scolded at dinner for eating too much, when he arrived here two years ago he had been living on the streets for a couple of years, and still has minor health problems due to the prolonged undernourishment. So do try to be a bit understanding if he seems to treat food as it could disappear at any moment." She's not even going to mention her own childhood. Nope. Not going there. Remy shrugs. "Best nip it in de bud, den," he points out- his tone is not callous or cruel, but to the point. "He look healthy 'nough to me. He start overeatin', he run into whole mess a othah trouble," the Cajun points out. He mixes some batter up for pancakes and sets things in the fridge to cool overnight, then comes and leans on the counter across from Ororo, sipping his booze. "Got a feelin' he ain't de only one come in off de street witout a lotta square meals unner his belt." Not that it's obvious by Ororo's picky meat aversion. "Most of the children here were runaways for at least some portion of time." Was it a successful deflection? We'll see. She pushes the plate toward Remy, hoping he won't let the leftovers go to waste. Sadly amusing thing is, before Bobby told her he was taking some time away from the Institute, he could always be trusted to make sure no food went to waste. Remy takes a bite of a few meaty bites laying around, using his fingers, and blatantly ignoring regular health code rules about handling chicken meat. "Well, guess we all one big happy family now, oui?" he says with a crooked grin. "Glad t' know dat my cookin'll be appreciated, at least," Remy remarks. "Hate goin' t' all dis effort ain't for waste. What you tink of dinner tonight?" he inquires, taking another sip of his drink. "It was very good. I haven't tried tomato soup before, mostly because I thought it would end up tasting like ketchup." She lets that hang for a moment, then proves she was gently teasing Remy. "I felt fairly confident that yours would not. The ... escargot, though." She shakes her head. "I don't eat meat very often, and especially not when I can recognize the animal it came from." "Escargot is snail, mon ami," Remy says, sliding the plate a few inches back at Storm. "Lil crawlies. Es bon," he assures her. "Remy do it Parisian, wit' de butter garlic sauce. Lil' rubbery, but delicious." He fingersnaps rapidly and vanishes into the kitchen. There's the sound of running water, the refrigerator opening, and Remy emerges with a small cup about the size of his palm in his hand. He grins and whips it in front of Ororo, then starts caramelizing the surface of the creme brulee with a torch. "Some creme brulee, for dessert," he says, the sugar turning a light brown color. "Heah you go. Bon appetite," he invites the woman. Storm blinks at the application of the torch to the little cup of ... pudding? but then ahs and nods when she recognizes the caramelized top crust. "All right, but you should get a spoon and share it. I doubt I will be able to finish this, even as small as it is." Remy leans his elbows on the table and smirks at Storm. A spoon flicks into his hand from nowhere, and then he shifts his thumb and turns it into two spoons. He offers one to Storm and invites her to break the crust of the brulee. "Team effort, den," he invites, gesturing at the cup of pudding again. Storm offers that small half-smile that is her equivalent of a full grin, then plucks one of the spoons out of Remy's hand to... wow. It's like a layer of ice or something. Her eyebrows twitch together for a brief second as she taps at the creme brulee as if trying to gauge how much force will be required to get past the crust. Remy eyes Storm, then stifles a snort of laughter and puts his fingertips on the back of her hand. "Like dis," he says. He lines up her spoon, adjusts her wrist, then taps the back of her hand like a man operating an ice breaker. The brulee breaks cleanly in half, and Remy helps Storm sort out the thin crust from the pudding. "Jes' gotta hit it right," he informs the woman. He spoons up some of the crunchy caramel and the pudding and takes a satisfied bite. Storm watches in fascination as Remy uses her hand and spoon to neatly crack the crust. Then she spoons up a similarly sized bite and can't help but nod at the combination of the crunchy and the ... pudding-y. "I think I've had this before, but ... different somehow." "Ah kin do a mean one with lavender," Remy says with a lopsided grin. He takes one more bite, then rises, slapping a rag over his shoulder. "Guess ah oughta turn in, if ah'm whippin' up breakfast tomorrow," he informs the woman. "You kin finish dis up if you want," he invites Storm. "Jes' set de dishes aside. Ah take care of em tomorrow." He daps a fingerful of pudding from the edge of the cup, waves at Ororo, and walks off, licking the little spall of cream off his fingertip. Storm watches Remy leave with a contemplative tilt of her head, then she finishes the creme brulee and collects the dishes to take to the sink. She waits and takes another tiny sip of the wine or two until she's sure that Remy is gone, then moves into the kitchen to properly wash the dishes and wine glass and leave them on a rack to dry. It's the least she can do. Category:Log